


Just a Little Impaired

by FictionalKnight (Northern_Star)



Series: Blind Alley [2]
Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-22
Updated: 2009-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:18:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_Star/pseuds/FictionalKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a sequel to "<i>A Dark Alley and a Bad Idea</i>" though it can certainly stand on its own.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Just a Little Impaired

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to " _A Dark Alley and a Bad Idea_ " though it can certainly stand on its own.

It had been six weeks since Bruce had last seen either of Clark or Superman. Six weeks since that night, when they'd met in a dark alley and Clark had forced upon him the one conversation Bruce didn't want to have - especially not there, and certainly not then.

It had all begun one night in Metropolis, after a nasty battle against mechanical monsters with hearts of Kryptonite. Batman wasn't sure if it was because of the adrenaline pumping in their veins or just the excitement of having beaten their opponents and survived, but somehow when they'd tumbled to the ground, one atop the other, he'd ended up with Superman's tongue down his throat. Or was it the other way around? Bruce wasn't really sure anymore. Either way, they'd kissed then, and they'd done a lot more than kissing later that evening.

After that, the thought of having sex with Superman was pretty much at the forefront of Bruce's mind _all the time_. The mere idea of keeping him pinned against a wall as he thrust deep into him, the memory of all the little cries of pleasure that came from Clark's throat every time Bruce buried himself deep within him, all that was more than enough to send fiery tendrils of desire coursing through his bloodstream.

They'd started setting up fake random encounters, mostly in Gotham because it was easier, but sometimes in Metropolis, too. More often then not one of them would show up in his normal street clothes while the other was spandex -or armor- clad.

This hadn't been going on for quite that long - a little less than six months - but thus far it had always seemed to be perfectly fine like this for both of them. Bruce knew for a fact that Clark enjoyed their encounters just as much as he did, because Clark himself had suggested quite a few of them.

They'd never once discussed taking things to another level - whatever level that may be - until that night, six weeks ago.

Bruce had never wanted to have _that_ conversation. He didn't, because he knew exactly how it was going to go, and he knew exactly what the outcome was going to be - he wanted neither of these things, and so he held on to the status quo as long as he could.

He held on until that evening. Until these words...

_"I...wish this was more than just a series of fake random encounters in dark alleys and on rooftops, Bruce. I wish-- I--"_

The words still rang in his ears, like they'd been said just moment ago - bashful, hesitant, with an underlying current of despair. And for Clark to feel a need to beg for this... it had struck Bruce somewhere right in the chest, something he wouldn't have predicted.

Forced to have this discussion, there, then, Bruce had said the only thing he could allow himself to say -

_"I don't want you to beg for that. You shouldn't beg for things that are already yours."_

In his own odd, perhaps twisted way - a way that didn't require him to express any of the feelings he'd never really come to understand - in that way that was perhaps clinical, Bruce did, in fact, love Clark. But it was as simple as that: a pure, and however unavoidable, fact. And to Bruce this knowledge was sufficient. Outwardly displays of affection need not be part of the equation - not to him.

Of course, normal people didn't operate that way. Not that one could exactly label Superman as _normal people_ , but he still acted and reacted like everyone else - like people who _felt_ things, in a way that Bruce Wayne no longer remembered.

Normal people wanted relationships, as though it would give their life a meaning, a purpose. They needed to feel needed, desired and loved. Intellectually, Bruce knew all of this; he simply couldn't understand. And however not-exactly-normal Clark Kent was, he deserved to have all these things his heart wished for. Bruce couldn't think of anyone - normal or not exactly - more deserving to be happy.

Except... except the one thing Clark seemed to want was the one thing Bruce couldn't give him. He wasn't that man. He couldn't be that man. What Clark needed and deserved to have, it was more than Bruce would ever know how to be.

Knowing that there was no point in trying to reason with him on this - how do you explain logic to someone who feels first and thinks later, when you're the polar opposite? - Bruce did the only thing he felt he could have done at the time.

He had left.

He'd been sure that this was the right thing to do. But that was six weeks ago... And in those six weeks, Bruce had come to realize that he hadn't been right at all. In those six weeks, Bruce Wayne had come to realize that he couldn't live this way.

Alone...

Aching for a presence, and a touch, sometimes just a softly spoken word or the hint of a smile.

Burning with need for this man, in a way he’d never needed or even wanted anyone before – in a way he never thought he ever would; more than just physical desire it was a soul-deep need.

Alone, now, Bruce felt pain that wasn’t physical at all, but crippling nonetheless. A sense of loss he’d only ever experienced once in his life. Loss he shouldn’t have to feel, he knew. He could _fix_ this.

He _had_ to fix this, because he couldn’t – _wouldn’t_ \- live like this anymore.

=:=:=

Batman hadn’t said a word during most of the Justice League meeting – not that anyone really expected him to, they were used to him sitting in silence and expressing an opinion only when strictly necessary or unavoidable.

Yet, tonight, it wasn’t that he was keeping quiet per his usual habit. Batman was quiet because he wasn’t actually listening to anything that was going on. He was aware that people around him were discussing something, but he didn’t know what it was about.

What he did know, however, was that over the last hour, Superman had frowned three times, laughed once, crossed and uncrossed his arms twice, and smiled a grand total of six times – one of which Batman was almost certain was directed solely at him. This, he’d noticed. Because, eyes well shielded behind the protective lenses of his cowl, Batman had spent the duration of the meeting staring at Superman, sitting all the way across the room.

Batman only realized that the meeting had ended when Flash, Green Lantern and Hawkman stood up from their seats and headed out of the room. At the other end of the table, another trio comprising of Wonder Woman, Atom, and Superman were having a discussion.

After a moment of carefully weighing his options, Batman stood and walked over to them. He looked directly at Superman and said, "A word?"

When it didn't look like either Wonder Woman or Atom had any intention of leaving, Batman added, "In private."

Superman turned to his companions and nodded, as though letting them know they would finish their conversation later. They left almost immediately.

Batman removed his cowl as they exited the room. If he was going to do this, he wasn't going to do this as Batman, but as himself. He was going to do this face to face, and eye to eye - there would be no mask and no lenses to obscure his eyes and hide his features. He placed the cowl neatly on the table and ran a hand quickly through his hair.

Then, Bruce looked to Superman, and calmly said, "Okay."

"I'm sorry...what?"

"Okay," Bruce repeated slowly as though the word itself should suffice as an explanation.

Superman frowned, confused. "When you said you wanted a word, I didn't expect you literally wanted _one_ word... Bruce, I don't know what you mean by 'okay'. Okay to what?"

"The... _thing_...you wished for? That night in the alley? I changed my mind. So, if you still _want_ that, I'm saying okay."

For a moment, Superman silently considered the man before him. Then he frowned again and said, "And your saying okay should, what? Fix everything? Just like that?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Bruce, but things don't work that way."

"I see," Bruce said, frowning as well. After a moment he nodded and picked up his mask from the table. "I'll do better next time I try," he said sadly, before turning to exit the room.

"That's it? You'll try again later? Bruce... wait."

Shoulders slumped, Bruce turned again. "What do you expect me to say, Clark?" he asked. "Because I haven't a clue. I realize I've made a mess of things and I need to fix this, but I-- I truly, honestly, don't know what it is that I should say that'll make things better. I'd say it if I did - but I don't."

"What do you mean, you don't know? You _always_ know what to say to anyone, in any situation. I've seen you charm people out of ridiculous amounts of money for charity, and you always have crowds of women literally eating out of the palm of your hand."

"That's not the same," Bruce replied. "Sure I know all the empty compliments women want to hear, and all the right buttons to push to get people to open up their wallets for charity. I know all the tricks in the book, because that's exactly where I learned them from: a collection of old books and some Clark Gable movies. But it's all just an act. None of it is real. And you..." He chuckled, knowing his next words would come out sounding so ridiculous. "Well for starters, there's no such thing as a book on how to seduce _Superman_. Believe me - I looked."

"I don't think you need one," Clark said softly.

A small smile formed on Bruce's lips. "I would never use such tactics on you anyway. You're one of the few people I know with whom I don't have to pretend to be anything but myself and I don't want to lose that. I want this to be _real_ \- I _need_ this to be real - not just for show."

"So, when you said... When you said 'okay', and that you'd changed your mind, you weren't just saying that to...make me happy?"

"No, of course not." Bruce frowned briefly, but his smile returned almost immediately. "Although, I did hope that might be the end result anyway."

"You know," Clark said in an amused tone, "for a guy who says he didn't know what to say to make things better, I'd say you were doing pretty well..."

"Does that mean it...worked? Are we okay?"

"I think we're more than okay."

Bruce let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "So...where do we go from here?"

"How about..." Clark pointed toward the exit. "Down that corridor to the left, and then two floors up?"

Bruce frowned. "Living quarters? That's not what I meant..."

"Oh, I know," Clark replied, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "But it's been six weeks... What do you think I am, a saint?"

"You?" Bruce couldn't help a chuckle. "And yet people think I'm the nefarious one..."

Clark took a step closer and whispered to Bruce's ear, "Our little secret." Then he grabbed him by the arm and pulled him toward the exit. "Come on, oh, virtuous one, let's go upstairs." As they headed away from the conference room, he asked, "Unless you'd prefer a dark alley?"

Bruce fought the urge to roll his eyes. "I like beds just fine, you know..." Then, raising an eyebrow, he added, "Wait...you don't snore, do you?"

"Don't worry," Clark replied, as they turned a corner to a first flight of stairs, "We're definitely not going to get any sleep. Not for a _very_ long time."

  
= > End.


End file.
